


Elephants

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Sam Winchester Reader-inserts [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9678926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: General Anxiety Disorder for @letsgetoutalive‘s Mental Health Awareness Writing Challenge.





	

Today is a bad day.

You can already feel it. You’re not sure what exactly led to this particular burst of anxiety, but it was probably something small and insignificant.

You take a deep breath, checking for the fifth time that you have your fake FBI credentials in the pocket of your long peacoat. Sam shoots you a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything as he holds open the door of the police station for you.

The cops fall easily for the ruse, as small town cops tend to do, and you’re soon flipping through a thick case file at the motel room table while the boys tack a map to the wall. You feel more comfortable here, in the safety of the locked room with the Winchester brothers by your side, but the tight itchy feeling in your chest doesn’t go away. It doesn’t seem to be getting worse, though, which you’re grateful for.

The case appears to be a salt and burn, with several people missing from the same neighborhood. It looks like either one very mobile ghost or a whole horde of them. Either way, it’s going to be hard.

Sam settles into the chair across from you at the table, turned sideways so he can let his long legs sprawl out. Dean plants himself on the lumpy couch and Sam tosses him a file.

“Because of how recent the disappearances are, we’re probably not looking at any missing person’s case older than a few years,” Sam says, popping open his laptop.

“Unless someone disturbed the grave,” Dean points out. “In that case, it could be much older.”

“Mmmm, good point. Let’s start with a parameter of five years and work from there. Sound good?”

Dean makes an affirmative noise and you nod.

* * *

Three hours later, the three hunters have narrowed it down to a couple possibilities, the most recent of which occurred less than a year ago. This is great and all, but Sam is worried about Y/N. She’s been strangely quiet and tense all day. He hopes she’s not getting sick.

They take a break for lunch. Dean hits up the diner down the street for takeout while Sam and Y/N organise the mess of research. When they’re done, Sam sits on the bed and pats the spot next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks when Y/N joins him. He slides his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side. “You’ve been really quiet today. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she tells him, leaning into his embrace. Her body is tense against his and he knows she’s not being completely honest with him, but if she doesn’t want to talk yet, then he can’t force her.

“Okay,” he murmurs. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you.”

She exhales deeply and softens in his embrace. “I love you, too.”

* * *

The anxiety reaches its peak the next morning, less than a half an hour after Dean figures out who the ghost is. You’re in the bathroom when it hits. You find yourself curled in the corner between the wall and the side of the tub in nothing but your underwear and bra, struggling to breath through the unrelenting weight on your chest. Tears streak your face, but you’re barely aware of them.

“Y/N, are you ready to go get breakfast?” Sam calls, knocking on the bathroom door.

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a strangle sobbing sound. You know he heard it because the door slams open and suddenly he’s by your side, gathering your to his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I should have realized,” he says, surrounding you with his body. “Dean!”

The older Winchester appears in the doorway, looking concerned. “Yeah?”

“I need you to get me the soft blanket from my duffel.”

You clutch at Sam’s shirt, the texture of the flannel familiar against your skin. His homey, spicy scent seems to loosen the clench of your lungs a little. He sits back a little to wrap yours favorite fluffy blanket around your shoulders. Once you’re covered, he scoops you up and carries you to the bed.

“I’m going to go get breakfast,” Dean says, clearly wanting to give you some space.

Sam has your head in his hands, forcing your eyes to look into his. He nods, but doesn’t look away. This intensity of his gaze is grounding.

“Breathe with me,” he murmurs. You can faintly hear the door of the motel room clicking shut. “Focus on me, darling. It’s just you and me right now.”

You nod, blinking back tears.

He gently wipes your eyes with his thumbs. “Here we go. In. Out. Just like that, Y/N.”

Breathing with him is hard. Your lungs protest at first, but it gets easier over time. Sam stays with you. His hair has fallen forward to tickle your forehead. You wriggle your hand out of the blanket cocoon and push it back. He smiles.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Awful,” you manage. “But better.”

“Can I get up for a moment? I’ll be right back, I promise. I just want to grab something for you.”

“Ok. But hurry.”

He chuckles and his weight disappears from the bed. You hear him rummaging around in his bag, and then he’s back. In his hands, he’s holding a [large stuffed elephant](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.com%2FIkea-JATTESTOR-202-980-33-Elephant-Stuffed%2Fdp%2FB006V25VNM%2Fref%3Dsr_1_7%3Fie%3DUTF8%26qid%3D1485685284%26sr%3D8-7%26keywords%3Dplush%2Belephant%23customerReviews&t=NTlmZmQ1OWFjZTk3MjQ2MzU4YjU3MTcxZjU0ZDQ4ODZjOGZmYjk3MixpN2hMc1AyUg%3D%3D&b=t%3A2vnAoTOfpEW8ZyupNBxN7A&p=http%3A%2F%2Fsamsexualdeancurious.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156543250018%2Felephant&m=1). Your eyes go wide and you can’t help reaching for it. Sam gives it up easily, smiling as you tuck the toy to your chest. It’s soft against your skin, perfect for times like these.

Sam gently rolls you onto your side and spoons up behind you. His body is solid and reassuring against your back. Your body melts into his embrace.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. I love you, Y/N. I’ll always do what I can for you.”

You reach down and grab his hand, weaving your fingers together on top of the plush. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”


End file.
